Saving Sanity
by The Crazy Breadstick
Summary: Arriving from the end of the universe, the Master begins his plans of his total domination. It was going smoothly until a little boy began pleading for his help. Now, the Master must return the boy home if he hopes to save his plans; and his sanity!
1. A Book of Proper Etiquette

_Instead of working on a new chapter for Determination, I ended up publishing this new story that involves a newly regenerated Master beginning his journey of universial domination to only be delayed by saving a little boy so he can save his evil plans and peace and quiet. Isn't that so nice of him? A second chapter will definetly be published! Provided people even want me to continue. So, review if you like the story!_

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><p>The Master, or "Harold Saxon", as he was currently known as, sat in his leather arm chair, reading a useless human book on etiquette. Did he really need to know how to use proper human etiquette? No, but it would make blending in with the apes a whole lot easier. They all had those fickle rules...<p>

The Master was alone in his newly bought house. He had been for quite a while now; his "girlfriend" that he had just moved in with, Lucy, was spending time at some resort that her friend had won a trip to on a radio show for the next month or so and had told him that she was going to have her phone off the entire time she was there. She needed "girl time" and didn't want him to bother her unless it was important. This was all fine and dandy to the Master for it left plenty of time for him to plot and do devilish deeds. He was diving deep into the game of politics and though it was _nothing _like Gallifrey's, he was finding it incredibly easy. It'd only take him mere months before he had this disgusting planet under his control! He still needed to plan though, in case something went wrong. After all, there were factors like the pathetic U.N.I.T. and Torchwood that could meddle with him. Oh, and the _**Doctor**_; mustn't forget him. He had to make sure, for certain, that he couldn't get in his way. However, for the four days or so, he hadn't been able to plot or relax at all.

Every time the Master tried to relax, read a book, cook dinner, plan evil plans, or even sleep, it was disrupted by a small, puny, little voice that kept playing over the regular hum of the electrical devices in his house. From the radio, to the television, to even the phone, this _"plea_" was following him continuously. It played in his car from the radio; it played in house from the tele; it evened played in his pocket from cell phone! He received _letters_ sent to his _mail_ with the message and while he was at work, his secretary would come in and say that someone called and left him a message and it was **always **that same message. It didn't matter if he turned off the radio or tele or his phone or if he put every message sent to him in the damn shredder! It **always** came back.

It was beginning to became more aggravating that the steady beating of drums in his head, and _nothing_ was more aggravating that the never ending noise of drums in one's head. It played even now: _**Tappity tap, tappity tap, tappity tap, tappity tap.**_ It _never_ ended. But he could stand that far more than this new noise following him! He had had the drums for centuries. Sure, it drove the Master insane, causing him to create chaos to ease the drumming… if only for a little while. But it was not _nearly_ as annoying as the plea of a child that persisted on asking **you** and only you for help. It didn't specifically ask for "The Master" or "Harold Saxon"… but he _knew_ it was for him.

"_**Uncle… Uncle, can you hear me?"**_

The Master looked up from his book and turned to gaze to the radio that sat so unassumingly on the end table. He had turned the radio off earlier. But, it had seemed to have switch itself on, and over the noise of the regular broadcast of the radio, there was **that** voice.

"_**Uncle…. Please help me…. Uncle? I'm scared…. Please help me…."**_

The Master gritted his teeth, enduring the plea that would continue even if he turned off the radio. He had tried to before and it only returned three times as louder within in a matter of minutes on his television and when he had turned that one off… well, it was just something he didn't want to experience again.

"_**Please please please… help me… I'm scared… they're everywhere at night… Uncle? ... Why won't you help me? Why? ... Am I bad boy? ... I don't want them to get me… please Uncle…"**_

Right after that, the message ended, his radio playing its regular broadcast of annoying human music, which led him to lean over and turn the radio off. He sat in the silence for a moment before closing his book that laid in his lap and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it him of all people this child was begging for help from? He was called a villain, evil, despicable by almost everyone who knew him. He was no hero, no savior. It was the Doctor, the person who made people better, who was such a person. If he heard this message, he would have been there to help this pathetic human child in a heartbeat (a Time Lord heartbeat of course).

But it wasn't the Doctor that the child was asking to help him. It was "Harold Saxon". It was the Master. And after nearly four days of this message stalking him (him, of all people!), he knew he had to help whoever this person was so they would leave him the hell alone. He had no other choice if he wanted a normal amount of peace and quiet. It was never truly quiet with the drums. Then again, he could just kill the kid… but he wasn't t_hat_ evil. Please… a child? Where would the enjoyment be in that to begin with? They weren't old enough to make the drums in his head calm nor did it bring him any satisfaction when he killed them. No, they just made the drums louder and cause an odd pain his chest and he didn't need any of that. Besides, if this child was really **that** persistent, then he probably wouldn't stop bothering him, even if he did kill him. They only way to deal with a nuisance like this was to just help them and hope they left you the hell alone.

The Master looked at the clock on the wall. 2:34 A.M. … though he didn't sleep very much, that was a little late for Harold Saxon to be out and about looking for a missing child. He supposed he would wait until morning for the mail to come. A letter was sure to be in it. There had been for the past four days. He could see if it had a return address of some sort. He had put all the letters in the shredder, so he'd have to wait for now... might as well finish that rubbish etiquette book.


	2. Donations

_I was originally waiting to publish this on Monday, but since I'm all ready (ha! Take that English teacher!) on the internet and publishing stories, I might as well add Chapter 2. I want to say thank you to Xx-silent-assassin-xX and EmoFroggie for giving me the will to add this Chapter. Please review!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, BBC does.**

**Claimer: I own the little boy, and I can't tell you his name yet. :)**

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><p>At exactly 9:30 A.M., the mail came for a Mr. Harold Saxon and the moment the mail-man left, he went right to the mailbox and looked through the mail. Four times. That was how many times last night that his tele and his radio played that helpless little cry for help. It was really starting to drive him over the edge and he was a little more than thankful to see the mail had finally arrived. Now if only he could- Aha! There it was. He could tell by the ill-written words and the shaky penmanship that this was the little boy asking for help. He walked back inside swiftly, tossing all the other mail on the floor once inside. The address was his and it was to "Uncle". The return address didn't really give him a clue as to who <strong>exactly <strong>it was from, but it did say the letter was sent from the White Begonia Gardens. Just peachy… At least it was in the same damn city. He didn't have to drive who knows how many miles, he could just walk there from his house. He might as well go now. As the kid said, "they're everywhere at night". 'Course, he didn't really have to worry did he? Not with his trusty laser screwdriver. It was _so_ much better than a sonic screwdriver…

Turning right around, the Master headed back outside, feeling his pockets to make sure he actually had the laser screwdriver on him as well as his ID. He briskly walked towards the Gardens. About a block away from his house, he decided to open the envelope and read the letter inside of it. It was the same useless babble that every single one said_**. **_

_**Help me. They're going to get me. I'm scared.**_

Obviously the terrified pleas of a young child. The Master sighed, crumbling the paper up and tossing it over his shoulder. He was going to help this kid, but just so that he didn't have to deal with something that was almost as persistent as the drums and continue with his plans of taking this planet of disgusting humans. And he was sure to succeed.

Once he arrived at the gates of the White Begonia Gardens, he noticed a little booth that people had to pay at to enter the Gardens as an effort for the community to make money and add more onto the Garden, a positive symbol in the community. At the booth sat one of the strangest humans the Master had ever seen. The middle age woman sat there on a stool, holding a donation bucket in her lap. She had frizzled ginger hair and alarming green eyes that seemed almost non responsive. They just stared in one direction. She wore overused loafers, mismatched rainbow stockings, and flower covered button up shirt with a matching skirt. The strangest thing about the woman, was the grin that was on her face, that went from ear to ear in an almost Cheshire like manner. She kind of looked like a woman he had seen a handful amount of times, Ms. Frizzle. Except this Ms. Fizzle looked possessed. From her frozen state, the Master decided he could most likely walk on by. She wasn't really responding or anything. He put his hand on the cast iron gates and began to push them open.

"Donation?"

Before the Master could go through the gates however, the woman with her chipper voice stopped him. He turned and looked back at her. She wasn't even looking at him. She was still staring straight ahead. He frowned slightly and walked back over to the woman.

"Of course…" he said in a smooth and charming voice, pulling out some spare coins in his pocket and dropped in the bucket. There, that should do it. Now he could just walk on through the gates-

"Donation?"

He stopped again and turned around, now **extremely **annoyed.

"I just gave you a donation." The Master refused to waste anymore of his Earth currency on this woman. She didn't even look at him however though. She just continued grinning.

"Donation?"

The Master stared at her for a good long moment before he decided to just walk through the gates. Ok then… obviously she wasn't the brightest human around. He'd just leave her to her own devices. Well maybe… he turned back around to the woman.

"Is there a little boy that lives around here? Who's in the Gardens all the time?" the Master asked. At the words of little boy, the woman slowly turned her head to look at the Master, the muscles popping as she did as if she hadn't moved her neck for a **long** time and continued to grin.

_** "Donation?"**_

The Master was now actually a little paranoid. That was just plain old creepy. "Yeah, you know what? Never mind, I'll go look for myself." He reassured, going back to the gates and opening them, slipping in to the gardens. He never took his eyes off the woman as he did this though; she stared at him intently the entire time.

"Donation?"


	3. The White Begonia Gardens

_Hello people who read this story! Here's Chapter 3! It took me a while to get it written, lots of editing and what not. I was going to have this much longer originally, but stories like to do their own thing and it ended up ending a little sooner than plan. Oh well! I'm satisfied with how it went. :D_

_Thanks to those who watched and reviewed this story and those who simply read it! It means a lot to me, so please review! I'm in a tad bit of a rush at the moment, so I'll have to cut this short._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. It belongs to the BBC. **

**Claimer: The little boy belongs to me. Ta-da!**

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><p><strong>Clang!<strong>

_Click!_

The Master turned away from the iron gates of the White Begonia Gardens, satisfied that the chain and padlock he just _happened_ to find next to the gates would hold off that disturbing woman. Disgusting vile ape… he was almost hoping she was possessed by some evil creature because if that was _really_ how those humans could get, well… let's just say he had new plans for when he took over. But! He mustn't allow himself to be distracted by such things right now. He had a job to do! He had to help that damnable _**boy**_ so he could finally be allowed to go back to his regular schedule. After all, his plans for world and universal domination did not include some **brat** getting in his way!

Noticing he was off track yet again, he turned his attention the Gardens in front of him and he had to admit; for stupid apes, they certainly knew how to decorate. In front of him was one of the more breath taking sights he had seen so far on Earth (because, _everyone_ knew that Gallifrey was by far the most beautiful planet in existence.) The Gardens had trees everywhere for shade, bushes trimmed in the shapes of animals, and scores of flower beds. All of this was arranged very carefully to maximize the general finesse of the Gardens. The path he was now on was cobblestone and though it seemed to have a destination in mind when made, it wasn't straight. It was winding like a snake towards a large fountain with surprisingly crystal clear water. The path circled around the fountain before branching out to different parts of the gardens with more zigzagged paths. It was a lot larger than he had first thought it was then. Well, damn that was going to make finding that kid harder! He also noticed three distinct things about the White Begonia Gardens that just didn't sit right with him.

The first thing the Master noticed was the eerie silence that hung over the entire Gardens like a heavy musk. There should be noise. Where was the noise? The **last** thing he wanted was to only hear the beat of the **drums**, over and over again. The silence just amplified it. Really! Even if the Gardens were a place of serenity, there should be some sort of noise. But, there wasn't the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the laughter of children, or anything. There should be _something_ to break this damnable silence.

The second thing he noticed, because of the silence, was how deserted it was. Not a single soul was in the entire place as far as he could see. It was as if they place had been closed off… or as if they had all vanished. There was no one! Not a squirrel, not a bird, not a human or one of their little children. Absolutely _no one._ No one except him, this child that wouldn't leave him alone, and who ever "they" were…

And the third thing the Master noticed about that was odd about the normally populous and noisy garden… were the many statues that were around the Garden. There were many, all different shapes and sizes, different creatures and such. They didn't really seem to, oh what was the word… _belong_. However! The ones he really noticed were the stone angels, who stood, covering their eyes as if they were weeping with grief. Oh great… The Weeping Angels, the Lonely Assassins. So that's who "they" were. Fabulous.

The Master now understood why this _child_ (he was beginning to question if that's what he was really helping) was so scared and persistent. The Weeping Angels were no laughing matter and definitely not something he wanted to mess with if he could help it. But, he knew if he didn't do this, he would never get rid of this annoying brat and that was more terrifying than the Weeping Angels.

Taking another look at his surroundings, he was satisfied to see that the Angels hadn't moved. This meant they didn't see him as a threat. At least, they didn't yet. That was a very good thing. It gave him a chance to locate the boy without any hindrance. Now, he'd be really lucky if they didn't respond _after _he found him. He knew that was ridiculously optimistic though. Of course they'd notice; they were looking for the boy too, were they not? They had to be with the way that disgusting _female_ acted when he simply asked if she had seen him. She was probably being influenced in some way by the Angels-

Wait a tick. What was that? That annoying buzzing noise…? It sounded like… his cell phone! Oh, it must be **him** again. Maybe he'd say something besides "_**Help me, Uncle!" **_and something more important like **where he was**. He could only hope as he took his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"_**Uncle… can you help me?"**_

"I sure the hell hope so, otherwise I'm never going to get rid of you…"

"_**Do you see them? The Angels?"**_

The Master paused for a moment and looked around. They didn't seem to have moved yet...

"Yes…?"

"_**They're trying to get me! I don't want them to! You have to save me, Uncle!"**_

An aggravated sigh left the Master. He all ready **knew** that. He had been repeating that for** five bloody days!**

"Yes, yes. I **know.** But how the hell am I suppose to s_ave_ you, if I don't even know where you are?"

Silence met his demand. Ok, now he was really annoyed. He was about to hang up the phone before the boy's voice returned, hushed. It was barely above a whisper.

_**"I'm hiding… they don't know where I am. Shhhh! Don't let them know! I'm by the weeping willow tree! Hurry, before they kn-"**_

The line went dead before the child could say anymore. The Master felt a rather odd emotion bubble up inside him as he heard, and his voice cracked slightly (but only slightly) when he called for him.

"Hello? Hello? Kid? **Hey!** Kid! **Brat!"**

With no reply what so ever, the Master snapped his phone close and stuffed into his pocket swore under his breath. Damn it all to the deepest fiery pits of Rassilon! Did they have him now? Just because of a telephone call? He should have been faster… he might be gone now and as much as he didn't want to admit it, it'd be his fault! He said the weeping willow tree, right? That couldn't be too hard to find; those things were massive! He had to have a good hiding spot or something; he must have just had to cut communications. That was it! It had to be!

The Master's feet began to move on their own accord, and he began to run down one of the shaded paths that disappeared deep into the Gardens. He didn't know why he was so frantic now. It wasn't just about wanting to get rid of this boy anymore, was it? No, he was beginning to think not. There was something else that was driving him to run in search of the boy instead of leaving while he still had the chance too (not that he was a coward or anything.) Maybe it was that odd hope that he still had some humanity. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't want to be responsible for some kid's death. He didn't know anymore, and he didn't care. All he knew was his damn hearts were beginning to hurt and the drums were pounding so loudly that he was wondering if his brain was going to **implode** from the force of it!

So, he ran. He ran harder than he ever had before (at least, in this body) until he couldn't run anymore. He finally stopped only when he couldn't breathe anymore and by then, he was completely utterly lost. But, perhaps that was a good thing. The plants in this area were untamed, producing widespread shade and a thick undergrowth he had to navigate through to just stay on the path. Plus, he didn't see any of the Weeping Angels out here and, at the end of the cobblestone path; he saw a gigantic weeping willow tree. The thing must be centuries old. The branches stretched out high and far before drooping down to drape all underneath it. His hopes rose slightly. This had to be the tree the boy said he'd be by.

The Master dove into the underbrush, searching madly for him. He ignored the pain of thorns cutting at his hands and the splinters he was sure he would have in the end. He looked through every nook and cranny, under every shrub, and all around that weeping willow, but he couldn't find him. The panic and rage was beginning to settle again as the outcome of his searching continued to turn up fruitless. Where the hell was he? The Angels **couldn't** have found him! No, not after all this time! He hadn't seen any Angels around to begin with!

In his rage, the Master punched the trunk of the tree, taking his mounting frustration out on it. Pain shot through his hand and up his arm, which he expected. The bark on the tree cracked and crumbled inward, however, which he was _not_ expecting. He stared at the tree, confused for a good moment before he realized the tree was hollow. He had originally thought the tree was solid, but clearly that wasn't the case. Adrenaline began to course throughout his body at this realization and he tore away at the tree like a beast, trying to create an opening so he could look inside. Once the hole was big enough, he popped his head inside, taking a look around. Down below, in the darkness, he could vaguely make out the shape of a small figure.

"Hey! Are you that kid who kept bugging me?" the Master called, hoping he was right.

He watched as the figure stirred and turn towards him. It reached up at him with outstretched arms, obviously wanting to be helped. Though he was hesitant to, the figure's small question made him make his final decision.

"Uncle?"

The Master pulled his head out of the hole and replaced it with his arms, lifting the child out of the hollowed tree. He held him close to him, without really thinking about it, and trudged through the brush until he reached a cleared part of the path. Then he subsequently set him down, rather quickly, as if he had never held him before.

Now that he got a good look at the child, he could see that they boy was about five years old. He was a bit small for his age, with a mop of curly brown locks on his head. He had a few freckles and forest green eyes filled with wonder. He wore jeans that were covered with tears and grass stains. His plain white t-shirt was equally dirty, covered with mud and grass stains. The child himself was caked with dirt and mud and the occasional twig was sticking out of his hair. He needed a proper bath…

"Uncle! You came! You came to save me!" the child exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the Master's leg to tightly hug him.

The Master grunted and stood somewhat awkwardly as the boy hugged him still. He wasn't used to being touched or hugged for that matter. He noted the boy had a British accent, which was good! He didn't have to deal with some brat from another country then. That'd save him a lot of trouble.

Reaching out, the Master patted the boy's head lightly as a sign of reassurance, "Yeah, I came…"

"I'm so glad! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he exclaimed, tightening his grip even tighter.

The Master felt extremely awkward now. He didn't see why he was so exuberant…

"Yeah, well… come on, you can thank me once I get you out of here… we need to go." The Master replied, pulling the boy away from his leg.

At first, the boy looked saddened by being pulled away, but the he quickly nodded happily in agreement. With a sigh, the Master picked the boy up and as the boy wrapped his arms around his neck for security, the Master began to walk down the cobblestone path away from the weeping willow tree to find his way back to the gates so he could leave.

He never noticed the Weeping Angel statue, as he walked by, that slowly turned its head and watched him with lifeless eyes as he walked away.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading! Please review! :D I tend to update sooner when I recieve them!<em>


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